’. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. Anna made things for her. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. It was excellently done, especially as she loved good dinners. ’ Even as they watched, a shadow passed across one of the apertures. In the struggle, Mrs.
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